


Your Seat Has Been Taken

by rayleenejackson



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, a few characters make guest appearances, in a sense at least
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-25 11:36:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7531255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rayleenejackson/pseuds/rayleenejackson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Your seat has been taken," Kuroo points out, nodding towards the back of the store where the wifi works quickest and, sure enough, there's someone in his seat.</p><p>"I just wanted to get some coffee and write an essay about Egyptians," Akaashi sighs, "is that too much to ask?"</p><p>"Probably."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Seat Has Been Taken

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hoot_Hoot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hoot_Hoot/gifts).



> Some extra facts that might be useful before you read! 
> 
> 1: Akaashi never attended Fukurodani - he went to Nekoma.
> 
> 2: Fukurodani and Nekoma didn't do the interteam training camps. Fukurodani did them with the teams from the manga/anime just not with Nekoma. Nekoma did them with Miyagi teams; Aobajousai, Karasuno, Date Tech.
> 
> 3: Bokuto and Kuroo know each other because they're childhood friends who ended up separating for junior high and lost contact once they joined high school. 
> 
> 4: This was written for a birthday I'm late for soooooo sorry and Happy Belated Birthday, Meg!

Akaashi enters the campus coffee shop with his laptop tucked securely under his left arm and right hand buried in his pocket, clutching 492 yen in his fist. The line is short and it takes barely over a minute for him to get to the front where the cashier, a tall guy with horrible bed head, is grinning at him and reaching towards the counter behind him to retrieve his usual order.

“One blueberry muffin and a coffee with two sugars, one and a half milk,” he confirms and Akaashi nods, dropping the money onto the counter.

“Thanks, Kuroo-san,” Akaashi says, a tired smile on his face. Kuroo was a friend from high school who could probably make his order with his eyes closed considering how many times he had made it at three am during the exam seasons.

“You look exhausted.”

Akaashi glances at the boy standing slightly behind Kuroo with one earphone in and an empty coffee pot in his hand. He has his hair pinned back in a loose ponytail and Akaashi knows Kuroo spent the better half of the morning fawning over it.

“I’m fine, Kozume-san,” Akaashi promises, balancing his muffin on top of his coffee cup, “just some late nights studying for the test tomorrow.”

Kenma, as he often pressed Akaashi to call him despite understanding Akaashi’s habit to add the suffixes no matter how close he got to the person, hums disbelievingly but turns to wash out the pot without continuing the interrogation.

“Your seat has been taken,” Kuroo notes suddenly, nodding his head towards the booth in the back of the shop where the wifi is the quickest.

Akaashi’s mouth screws up a little, more on instinct that voluntarily, as he stares at the guy sitting in his usual seat with his headphones on and his laptop out. He’s whistling a song, a new one from America that got popular enough to make its way to Japan despite the language barrier, loud enough that Akaashi can hear it across the building. He looks at Kuroo with distaste obvious on his features and Kuroo snorts, busying himself with a customer who had just entered the shop, looking a little awestruck at the decor from what comes off as an ordinary coffee shop from an outside view.

Akaashi, while resisting the urge to approach the man and order him out of the booth, heads towards the back of the store and slides into the booth across from the strangers. Akaashi doesn’t spare him a glance as he sets up his workspace, making any necessary adjustments to fit his new placement. He hears the strangers whistling stutter to a halt but Akaashi continues syncing his phone with the computer and starts the transaction of some files off his phone and onto the laptop.

As he waits for the download to finish he unwraps his muffin and takes a distracted bite, plugging in his headphones. He opens the files once they download, all too aware of the eyes staring daggers into the side of his face. Akaashi looks up over the top of his laptop and sees Kuroo smirking at him, flickering his eyes between Akaashi and the man. Akaashi raises one eyebrow while angling his face so the man wouldn’t catch the movement. Kuroo shakes his head like he’s asking ‘what’ so Akaashi stares harder, trying to get it across that he’s asking about the stranger drilling holes into the side of his head. Kenma, who’s watching the exchange with a pained expression, lets out a sigh that audible from across the building and steps forward to whisper something into his best friends eat, which makes his eyes widen momentarily before returning to Akaashi’s, now filled with a mischievous glint.

“Hey, Bokuto! Come ‘ere!”

 _Bokuto_ , Akaashi muses as said strangers intense star breaks so he can look towards Kuroo, who;s gesturing him over with a wave. He’s heard the name around campus before; the energetic third year studying psychology despite his own mental struggles, the one who used to be a pretty famous volleyball player in high school before he suffered a career-ending injury in his first year of university, the guy who resembles an owl with his eccentric hair and wide eyes.

Akaashi’s eyes follow Bokuto’s movements as he talks with Kuroo in a hushed whisper, watches as he rolls his shoulder every few minutes, reaching up to rub it gently with his hand. He’s wearing a beanie despite the insufferable heat but it does nothing to hide the black and white spikes his hair is styled into. Akaashi remembers a rumour he heard about Bokuto’s hair being naturally coloured like that and he finds it easy to believe now, while he’s staring at the intricate weave of black and white strands.

Kuroo says something that makes Bokuto’s head swivel to stare at him and Akaashi swears mentally as he drops his gaze faster than ever before, returning to staring blankly at the screen. He risks a glance upwards and lets his eyes follow the rolling motion of Bokuto’s shoulder before an idea strikes him and he exits out of the documents without saving, thanking all the gods in the world that all he managed to get down was some bullshitted sentence about the Egyptians for his world history paper, and opens a search bar, typing in ‘ _Bokuto Koutarou_ ’.  The first link brings him into a site with the headline _‘BOKUTO KOUTAROU  VOLLEYBALL CAREER OVER?’_.

There’s a picture of Bokuto in his high school uniform; black, white and gold. He’s wearing the number four but it has the captain marking so Akaashi supposes he didn’t feel comfortable taking his old captain’s number, something plenty of people don’t feel comfortable doing.

Under the picture is a short caption, explaining that Bokuto attended Fukurodani Academy; a regular team at the Nationals for the three years that Bokuto had attended.

The block of text under that reads, _‘Famous volleyball player Bokuto Koutarou of Fukurodani Academy suffered a shoulder injury shortly after enrolling in Tsukuba University during a practice. The school ordered the details be kept confidential but a worker at the hospital leaked to the press that something had happened between two players that resulted in a few bones in Bokuto’s shoulder being shattered.’._

Akaashi frowns, feeling a rush of sympathy for Bokuto. He’d heard about that around campus, whispers about how a first year and his senpai had gotten caught up in an argument the previous year, stories about how Bokuto had lost all mobility in his right arms for a couple months after the injury.

He’s about to search something else, maybe regarding Bokuto’s comments on the ordeal, when he hears a hissed protest followed by a sound of someone falling into the seat across from him. Akaashi looks up and immediately closes the tab when he realizes it’s Bokuto laying half in the chair and half sprawled down on the floor.

“Hey, Akaashi~” Kuroo sings cheekily, pressing his hand to Bokuto’s uninjured shoulder when he tries to stand back up, “this is Bokuto Koutarou. Talk with him.”

Akaashi looks at him evenly, letting his eyes jump from the messy hair to the encouraging smile. Akaashi looks at Kenma who’s sitting on the counter watching them curiously. He nods when he notices Akaashi looking and Akaashi, trusting Kenma’s judgment on people, looks back at Bokuto who is still struggling under Kuroo’s hand.

“Hello,” his voice is quiet and restrained like he’s trying to subconsciously counter against the noise that Kuroo and Bokuto create when they’re together.

Bokuto freezes in place from where he was attempting to scratch at Kuroo’s face and his eyes lock onto Akaashi’s. He slowly relaxes in Kuroo’s grip and nudges him to let go. Kuroo obliges and backs away slowly, keeping an eye on them. When he gets close enough Kenma nails him in the head with a coffee bean, using his experiences as a setter for an excuse as to why he has an exceptional aim.

Bokuto is still staring at him in amazement like he’s staring at something miraculous instead of a college student with too-pale skin and deep bruises under his eyes. He has a dopey look in his eye, reminding Akaashi of Lev whenever Yaku got brought up in conversation.

“Bokuto!” He blurts quickly, keeping his eyes locked on Akaashi’s face. It’s at the same intensity as it was before but this time, it feels somehow more powerful. “My uh, my name. It’s Bokuto.

 _I know_ , Akaashi thinks creepily, _I also know what high school you attended and what happened to your career. I know you got into Fukurodani on a sports scholarship. I know you were the captain and the ace. I know._

Akaashi decides not to voice any of those thoughts and instead settles on a minute nod, “I’m Akaashi.”

Bokuto nods quickly and Akaashi notices red creeping up on his face. The next thirty seconds is filled with an awkward silence and the sound of music drifting from Kenma’s headphones at an unhealthily loud volume. Even Kuroo is quiet, although the only thing restraining him from throwing a scone at their heads is probably Kenma resting his head against Kuroo’s chest.

Akaashi closes his computer and folds his hands atop the company’s logo on the back. “What are you studying?”

Bokuto looks at him in confusion for a second before the light comes back in his eyes and he gapes, looking like he’s trying to remember the name of his program. Akaashi already knows what he’s studying, but he thinks it’ll be less creepy if he asks now instead of accidentally blurting out that he knows like some sort of stalker.

“Uh,” Bokuto stammers, “psych. Psychology.”

Akaashi hums interestedly, “that’s pretty cool. I used to want to be a psychologist but I ended up going into education to become a history and math teacher.”

Bokuto nods, gaining some confidence from being on a topic he understands, “I used to want to be a professional in sports but something happened,” Akaashi pretends he doesn’t see how Bokuto rolls his shoulder, “and I ended up switching my primary to psych. They continued with my sports scholarship, not sure why, though.”

“Probably because they think the injury will heal before you finish your courses,” Akaashi suggests but Bokuto shakes his head.

“Nah; they've revoked scholarships from spikers with injuries less severe than a completely busted spiking arm,” Bokuto huffs, sinking lower into his seat. “I feel bad for taking a scholarship when I don’t need it. My parents can afford to pay my way through school a hundred times over but there’s people that need it and they don’t have it.”

Akaashi agrees quietly, picking at his muffin. He too is in on a scholarship despite his family having enough money to be able to send him through university without a hitch. He knows the guilt of having a fully paid for college experience even though he doesn’t need it. He can sympathize with Bokuto when it comes to watching people struggle to pay off their debts while knowing that they could’ve had your scholarship.

Bokuto winces suddenly and whips around to face a glaring Kuroo who’s still holding his hands in position; letting them know it was him who had served an orange into the back of Bokuto’s head.

“Stop feeling guilty, Bo,” Kuroo snaps, picking up another orange. “Take your damn scholarship and accept that they won’t take it back from you,” he serves the fruit, this one landing a few inches away from their table. Akaashi hears Kenma mutter an ‘out’.

Akaashi wraps his hands around his coffee cup, staring down at the unopened lid. Kuroo is one of the people that needs a scholarship. He could’ve gotten one for both sports and academics but neither department offered him one, so Akaashi had to take his scholarship and watch one of his best friends work odd jobs to pay for half of the tuition while his parents struggle to make their own ends meet while also trying to keep their son in college.

Akaashi jumps when an apple drops in front of him and he looks up to see Kuroo glaring at him too.

“Don’t you start feeling bad too, Akaashi,” he says, waggling his finger threateningly.

“He has a basket of fruit,” Kenma adds, “I recommend you stop being guilty before he wastes our entire stock.”

Kenma is watching both Akaashi and Bokuto sternly too and Akaashi gets the weird feeling that he was the one who sent the apple at him.

“If you're going to continue being all sad and droopy then leave my shop,” Kuroo says, pointing at the door. Akaashi rolls his eyes but looks towards Bokuto curiously, asking if he really does want to leave.

“Sure,” Bokuto agrees, moving to stand and retrieve his laptop. Akaashi picks up his laptop and coffee, tossing the half eaten muffin at Kuroo who catches it and takes a dramatically large bite out of it.

They leave the coffee shop together, Akaashi hoping Bokuto somehow didn’t hear Kuroo playing _Sakura Kiss_ on his phone like he isn’t an honour student studying chemistry and is instead a thirteen-year-old girl watching anime and fawning over fictional boys.

“Can we stop by the dorms so I can drop off my computer?”

Bokuto nods, “yeah, I need to drop mine off too. We can meet up in the lobby of my dorms and be sad and droopy elsewhere.”

Akaashi laughs a little and tries to ignore the way Bokuto’s eyes widened at the sound. The walk across campus is filled with easy conversation between them, trading stories about the weirdest of the professors, their high school experiences. Akaashi brings up Bokuto’s high school team and is filled with an odd sense of joy as he watches Bokuto beam and spit out stories rapidly about their libero once tried to stand on some guy named Konoha’s shoulders during practice and nearly fell off. Bokuto explains that Konoha had a huge, completely obvious crush on Komi, the libero, since first year and that the team had spent the entire third year trying to hook them up before they separated for university. He tells a story about their setter, a loud person named Arakaki who didn’t identify as any particular gender but had one of the biggest hearts Bokuto had ever seen and who would smile blindingly bright whenever they won a game, who had dealt with feelings for their manager, a girl in their year named Yukie, ever since second year and how Arakaki had confided in the team that they was scared she would reject them. Bokuto says that she accepted them easily, like everyone on the team promised would happen, and that they were now attending the same university in Kyoto.

In turn, Akaashi tells about how Nekoma had a sleepover at Kuroo’s house and how Lev had gotten stuck in a window, Kenma received a sharpie moustache and no one told him so he ended up going out in public with it, Fukunaga almost stripped during a game of truth or dare and Kuroo almost sent a nude to Aobajousai’s captain before Yaku stopped him with a kick to the shins. He mentions the time Kuroo walked into the gym late carrying a box full of previously stray kittens and paused practice so everyone could name the cats and decide on who adopted which if anyone adopted one. Bokuto says that he would’ve taken one and Akaashi tells him he did. His kitten was a white Japanese bobtail named Splash after the splash of caramel under her stomach.

“That’s really great of you, Akaashi,” Bokuto says as he opens the door to the building hosting the third years’ dorms, “taking in a stray cat like that.”

“Yeah I guess,” Akaashi says, “I really love animals, and seeing her pawing at a volleyball with her siblings gave me the feeling I had to take in at least one of them. The rest of the team took one too, even Kenma. I think, despite his indifference towards animals, he felt the same thing I did while watching them.”

Bokuto gives him a soft smile. “Meet me back here in ten and I’ll you about the time my team tried to steal an owl?”

“Deal.”

 _It’s a bit weird,_ Akaashi thinks as he opens the door to his room, _that we’ve only just met but we’re already going to hang out. For all I know he could be a murderer, although I trust my friends not to let me go anywhere with a killer._

Akaashi places the computer on his desk and glances over at his roommate lying on the floor with his textbook covering his face. He’s not wearing a shirt, just a pair of shorts, and he has highlighter markings covering his chest with squiggles. There’s also a spider sticker stuck over his belly button.

“Are you okay, Yahaba-kun?”

“All I can see is Japanese history,” comes his muffled response, followed by a distressed moan.

“Yes, well that might be because you're covering your face with a Japanese history textbook.”

Yahaba pulls the book down to cover the highlighter marks and glares up at Akaashi. “Listen, I have a history test tomorrow morning - first period - which means if I don’t learn all of the previous emperors by then, then I will fail this test and die miserably.

“That’s what you get for abandoning your studies for your boyfriend.”

Yahaba waves the comment off, rolling over on his stomach so he can bury his face in the fluffy mat that Yahaba insisted on bringing to college. Akaashi supposes this is why he wanted to bring it.

“Kentarou gets pouty if I ignore him for too long. And then he withholds sex until he stops sulking.”

“Thanks for sharing.”

“Welcome.”

“Well I’ll leave you to your sorrows,” Akaashi says, nodding his head at Yahaba. “If I’m not back by ten please send your boyfriend or Iwaizumi-san to avenge me.”

Yahaba moves his head in a way that resembles a nod so Akaashi leaves and lets him suffer in peace. When he opens the doors to the third years’ dorm building he’s expecting to see Bokuto waiting for him. He is not expecting to see a familiar face draped over Bokuto with a goofy smile, poking him in the ribs.

“What are you doing here, Oikawa-san?”

Oikawa looks up and his eyes gain a sparkle that Akaashi has learned over the years means he's enjoying something way too much and usually ends with Iwaizumi launching a volleyball into the back of Oikawa’s head. Or his face, if he manages to find the right timing.

“Kei-chan~” Oikawa sings happily, practically floating over towards Akaashi. “I didn’t expect to see you here!”

“Mhm, sure,” Akaashi scoffs, rolling his eyes at Oikawa’s pathetic acting skills, “why are you on my campus? Surely Iwaizumi-san wouldn’t let you go off all alone.”

“I am an adult,” Oikawa’s pout is contradicting his statement but Akaashi is willing to overlook that.

“Which means you ran away from him.”

“Exactly.”

“Didn’t do too good of a job,” Bokuto points out, nodding his head towards the windows where Iwaizumi is walking past with a scowl worthy of an award. Oikawa yelps sharply and ducks behind Akaashi. Akaashi notices Bokuto silently attracting Iwaizumi’s attention with a wave, pointing at Oikawa. Iwaizumi presses a hand against his forehead and pushes the doors open, barking out Oikawa’s name.

“Hey, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa is peeking over Akaashi’s shoulder.

 “Stop bothering people,” Iwaizumi sighs, the anger subsiding from his shoulders. “C’mon Oikawa. You can annoy Yahaba.”

 Akaashi considers telling them that Yahaba is studying but he retracts those thoughts once he realizes Yahaba will probably welcome the interruption. And if he doesn’t he can always bug Oikawa and Iwaizumi for the names of the emperors. They weren’t in college prep classes back in high school for nothing.

“Let’s go,” Iwaizumi places his hands on Oikawa’s shoulders and guides him towards the door.

“Bye, Kou-chan, Kei-chan!” Oikawa chirps. Iwaizumi raises a hand in farewell, gently shoving Oikawa out of the building.

Once they’re out of sight Akaashi notices Bokuto staring at him and tilts his head in curiosity. “How do you know Oikawa?’

“Nekoma did their training camps with them,” Akaashi says. “How do you know him?”

“Technically I’m friends with Iwaizumi but that extends to Oikawa,” Bokuto shrugs, “he’s a cool guy though so I really don't mind.”

Akaashi hums. That’s true. If you’re going to be friends with one of them you’re friends with them both whether or not you wanted to be.

“Hey, I promised to tell you about the time we stole an owl, so let’s go for a walk and I’ll tell you,” Bokuto suggests. Akaashi smiles at him, nodding in agreement. He turns towards the doors and misses the way Bokuto’s cheeks go pink.

“Okay so, I was in my second year and the team went to a zoo for bonding or some weird shit like that. When we got to the owls Konoha started to act like he was being possessed and pointed at the cage. Komi noticed first and when he did he slapped Konoha and shook him until he stopped drawing attention - yeah, I know he drew more attention. Then they told us that there was a tiny hole in the fence thing and that there was a baby owl trying to escape. So naturally our captain turned to us and told us, very seriously ‘guys, we’re going to steal this owl’. He wasn't the best influence.

“Konoha and Komi took the jobs of blocking the owl from sight while keeping it at the corner without it getting out. Our vice-captain stole some food from a kid. Our captain was distracting officers and workers. I had to find something to put the owl in. Everyone else was responsible for making sure our path back to the bus was as clear as possible.”

Akaashi holds his hands up in a ‘time out’ sign, “wait there was no way that you guys thought this would work,” he laughs, his shoulders shaking with the force of his laughter. Bokuto nods furiously, eyes wide and filled with excitement.

“We really did! We almost made it out too. We got the owl out of the cage and managed to put him in the bag but then we got stopped by an officer halfway back to the bus. Apparently, Komi and Konoha were being too loud and they heard that we had stolen something. I passed the bag off to our captain who was trying to hide behind his vice-captain. The officer wasn't too pleased to find out a bunch of high school students was stealing an owl.”

Akaashi laughs louder, drawing attention from two people making out on the side of the building. Bokuto laughs with him, throwing his head back in delight. “They didn't seem too surprised that kids wanted to steal the exhibits, though.”

Akaashi covers his mouth with his hands, tears appearing in the corner of his eyes from trying to fight back the laughter. His sides are hurting and he wants to stop before the pain becomes overwhelming. He wants to stop laughing, stop opening himself up for a stranger he only barely knows. He wants to go back to his room, hide behind the walls with his laptop for company. He wants to revert to being wary, cautious of everyone who attempts to drag him out of his shell. He wants to - but he also doesn’t. As much as he’s scared of how easily Bokuto can make him laugh, how easily he can be made smile. Even though he’s scared of Bokuto and everything he stands for with his smiles and laughter and stories. Even though all of that makes him want to shut himself in a closet and hide, he gets a thrill. A rush of excitement every time Bokuto laughs or smiles in his direction. He feels his stomach explode with butterflies whenever they make contact, be it the barest brushes of their hands or the warmth emitting from Bokuto’s palms every time he wraps his long fingers around Akaashi’s wrist and pulls him in another direction.

Akaashi wants to curse Bokuto for managing to do something in one evening that took Kuroo nearly three years to do. But he also wants to feel the security that is sure to come with being engulfed in Bokuto’s arms. He wants to hear Bokuto’s heartbeat, wants to breathe him in and hold him tight.

It’s not until he’s laying in his bed, memories of Bokuto nearly stepping on a flower and falling into a guilty mess until Akaashi assured him that the flower held no ill will against him running through his mind, does he realizes that he’s standing on the edge of the cliff, ready to fall in. It’s not until the sounds of Yahaba bitterly flipping the pages of his textbook die out with a low thump as his head falls and hits the book at three am does he realize he’s terrified of heights. And it’s not until he’s leading a drowsy Yahaba to his bed does he realize he’s slipping.

And it takes him a glance down at Yahaba’s phone that lights up with a text notification from Kyoutani telling Yahaba to go to sleep if he isn’t already does he realize he might not mind falling too much.

 

* * *

 

When Akaashi pushes the door to the shop open, cringing at the sharp ding of the bell that Kuroo insisted they add, he doesn’t go to the counter where Kuroo is smirking at him and leaning against the counter and dropping straws into the containers. He goes to the back of the shop where someone is sitting with a cookie on one side and a blueberry muffin with a coffee on the other.

Akaashi slips into the booth, immediately opening his drink and taking a long sip of the scalding caffeine.

“How’d your test go?”

“Like shit,” Akaashi groans, pulling the crumpled paper from his pocket. “I thought I understood everything. Turns out it was the confidence you feel when you know jack all.”

He tosses the paper on the table between them and Bokuto snatches it up in a heartbeat, letting a quiet gust of breath when he sees the numbers marked in the corner.

Akaashi doesn’t want it back so he throws it into the trash and takes another sip from the coffee like he’s hoping the heat from the drink will burn the red 39% scrawled in red pen and circled on his sheet.

It’s been three weeks since he first walked into the coffee shop and found Bokuto sitting at his table. In those weeks he's found out three very important things.

One; he didn’t grow up in the warmest of households what with his parents leaving for months on end, leaving him with distant butlers and nannies.

Two; he’s bisexual and has only ever had sex once with a guy in his first year of college.

Three; it’s very hard not to fall harder for him with every day they spend together.

He’s also learned less important things, like how he is the strongest guy on their campus (whenever Iwaizumi isn’t here), how he rooms with a second year named Terushima because there was an odd number of third and second years so they got lumped together. He knows Bokuto can only cook pancakes and hates pickles. And he’s learned from Kuroo that Bokuto likes him too.

Akaashi jumps when he feels Bokuto’s hand land on his shoulder and looks up at his concerned stare. His hand tightens around the coffee cup and he places it on the table to avoid breaking it and spilling coffee everywhere.

“You okay, Akaashi? You’ve been zoned out for a few minutes. I think Kuroo is getting ready to throw fruit at you.”

Akaashi turns his head, raising an eyebrow at Kuroo who smiles innocently and takes a bite from the apple in his hand.

“Well c’mon,” Bokuto says cheerfully, “we can go annoy Yahaba and Kyoutani. That always cheers you up!”

 “That cheers _you_ up, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says, making sure he has his coffee firmly in hand as Bokuto pulls him out of the shop. He doesn’t express any other complaints though so Bokuto continues to drag him across campus while Akaashi laments the loss of his muffin. Bokuto throws his door open, Akaashi’s not sure where he got a key from, and hoots out a greeting.

Yahaba, who is glaring at them from his place in Kyoutani’s lap, growls out a hello and reluctantly climbs off, tossing Kyoutani his shirt. He knows Bokuto won’t leave, even if they had been already been in bed together.

Kyoutani is glaring at Akaashi who shrugs and leans against the doorframe. “He has a key. I couldn’t stop him.”

“You could’ve tried,” Kyoutani grunts, hauling his shirt over his head and his boyfriend back into his lap. Kyoutani buries his face in Yahaba’s neck and mumbles something that sounds ominously like ‘kill your roommate and his boyfriend’. Akaashi has to knock his wrist against the wall to keep from protesting.

Bokuto drops down face first on Akaashi’s bed, “I think I’ll take a nap,” he announces into the comforter.

“Feel free,” Akaashi says, “I have to go through the damn book again.”

Yahaba watches him angrily stomp towards his desk, even if the angry stomping is nothing more than his usual walk accompanied by a sour twist of his mouth. Akaashi pulls the textbook from their shelf reserved for school related books and plops down in the seat, pulling a highlighter from the bin.

“I take you failed?”

“Miserably. I got a thirty-nine.”

He can practically feel Yahaba’s wince and is almost grateful that Yahaba, who excelled at studies in high school and is also finding it difficult to stay at the top of the class now in college, understands. Almost. He was grateful until Yahaba states ‘and you tell me to stop pushing things to the back burner for my boyfriend’ in his voice that sounds floaty and unimpressed, layered with haughtiness and generally paired with a distasteful stare down his nose.

Akaashi flicks the cover of the highlighter at him. “We’re not dating, _your highness_ ,” Akaashi has his own tone that makes him sound annoyingly stuck-up, and by the way Bokuto’s head perks up it’s the first time Akaashi has ever spoken like this in his presence.

“You should be,” there it goes. His shallow demeanor, the one that proves he grew up privileged and doted on, is hidden beneath a mask again. His voice returns to normal, soft and firm. His eyes fill with emotion and warmth, melting the ice that had appeared in them. “You’re cute together.”

Akaashi is somewhat aware of Bokuto pushing his head under the pillow, hiding from Yahaba’s blunt statements as he ducks his head and wills the redness away from his cheeks. He can hear Kyoutani reprimand him on it and can picture him kicking him in the side lightly.

“Well it’s true,” Yahaba pouts, lying down on the rug.

“Yahaba-kun, with all due respect, _shut up_ ,” Akaashi hisses, covering his face with one hand and pats in Yahaba’s direction blindly with the other. Yahaba laughs loudly and his laughter, Akaashi notes with a twinge of contempt, sounds like what you would get if you compressed beauty and joy into a sound. And he still manages to make it sound mocking.

“Okay, okay,” he relents, holding his hands out to Kyoutani, “we’re going to go to the library.”

“Don’t have sex in the library,” Akaashi sighs, shaking his head. Yahaba winks at him and leads his boyfriend, who turned into a puddle of melted Kyoutani at the prospect of sex, out of the room so they can terrorize some famous authors in the corner that no one ever went to.

A silence falls over them once the door swings shut so Akaashi returns to his textbook, highlighting the important words in important paragraphs that he didn’t honestly care about at this moment. He’s sticking a sticky note in one of the pages when he notices that Bokuto’s breathing hasn’t evened out into the telltale sign of sleep and he’s underlining something he needs to ask his professor about (if we’re going that route then I should highlight the entirety of the damn book, he thinks bitterly) when Bokuto poses the question that has his hand jerking to the side, leading a trail of ink into the margins.

_"Do you think we’d make a good couple?”_

Bokuto still has his face buried under the pillow when Akaashi stares at him in shock. He approaches the, possibly hypothetical, question with a caution that he had abandoned during his test.

“I don’t know. What do you think, Bokuto-san?”

Akaashi prides himself on keeping his voice steady and clear despite his raging heart.

“Yeah. I think we would,” comes his muffled answer and Akaashi nearly drops the pen still clutched tightly in his fist.

“Okay,” Akaashi says, his voice sounds tighter this time.

Neither of them speak after that. Bokuto’s breaths even out and Akaashi’s strokes with the highlighter become neater. There’s a darkness in the room, due to the sun retreating and Akaashi being too tired to attempt to flick the switch on his lamp.

Akaashi only realizes the situation when it’s nearly two am, Yahaba already staggered into the room with a bruise on his forehead he waved off as an ‘I hit my on the bookshelf while we were fucking’ accident and he’s ready to collapse and sleep until Jesus rises again.

He’s about ready to fall on his bed and sleep peacefully when he notices a breathing lump occupying his bed already.

 Bokuto never left and is currently sleeping in his bed. Normally Akaashi wouldn’t mind and would just go and fall on Yahaba and hope that Yahaba was too groggy to object to anything, but Akaashi isn’t sure if that would be the best course of action.

Their conversation from earlier that day, or yesterday in technicalities, was enough for to prove that Bokuto did in fact like him back. But they never confirmed it so it would probably be better for him to just go pass out on top of Yahaba.

 _That’s probably the best decision_ , Akaashi decides and gets ready to flop on top of Yahaba, but he’s already awake, seemingly having sensed Akaashi’s intentions, and he’s glaring at Akaashi with a glare that’s not half as threatening as it could be.

“No,” Yahaba slurs sleepily, pointing in the general vicinity that Akaashi’s bed is in. “Bad boyfriend.”

“We’re not dating,” _at least I don’t think so_ , Akaashi grumbles but he gives up on sleeping with Yahaba. If he’s awake and coherent enough to form proper, although quite jumbled and choppy, sentences then there’s no way that he’ll agree to let Akaashi into his bed.

“Hey,” he whispers to the bed, shifting awkwardly. He can practically feel Yahaba judging him from his half-dead state of sleep. “Uh, I’m just going to sleep here…?”

“‘S’not a question,” Yahaba sighs, pulling the blanket up over his head, “just go to sleep. He won’t care,” Akaashi catches an ‘he’d probably enjoy it,’ went unvoiced because sleepy Yahaba is reserved and bitter. Unlike awake Yahaba who is unforgivably snarky and filled with no regrets. Yahaba underneath the mask is a bitch and no one wants to deal with that Yahaba.

He takes a deep breath and peels the comforter, that Bokuto had retreated under sometime around ten, back and lays down on the edge of the bed that is in no way prepared to fit two fully grown college students both around six foot.

He’s stiff, trying to keep distance between him and Bokuto. Yahaba is watching him from his bed with a disgusted sneer. Akaashi mouths an affronted ‘what’ that gets lost in the darkness of the room. He’s about to whisper out a defensive sentence, something to try and revive all belief that Yahaba holds in him, but what comes out is a strangled squeak when Bokuto’s hands snake around his waist and pull him against a warm, firm chest.

Yahaba, in his half-asleep state, sits up thinking that someone is trying to kill Akaashi before he manages to connect the lines and a smug grin covers his face. “Have fun,” he whispers into the night, flopping back down and quickly drifting back to sleep.

Akaashi can’t breathe properly, not with Bokuto’s face buried against his neck. Not with the warm air rushing down his spine, the arms forming an inescapable belt around his torso. The warmth of another person, the same person he’s been knowingly falling for weeks, surrounding him, choking him. It’s bad for his health but it’s good for his heart and Akaashi is torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer.     

He’s dying, the closeness of Bokuto too much to handle, when he hears his name being whispered against the crook of his neck. His voice, usually loud and filled with energy, is quiet and breathy, the edge of excitement replaced with a feather-soft touch.

“Akaashi,” his name again, this time, spoken louder but just as soft and sweet as the first time. The arms around his waist tighten, becoming almost unbearable.

That’s how Akaashi drifts off, his name being whispered in his ear and his breathing being restricted by a pair of arms.

 

\-----

 

When he wakes it’s to a loud screech and being shoved onto the cold floor. He hears a mumbled ‘fuck’ followed by a loud burst of laughter. The laughter, he concludes, is Yahaba’s. It has the same smug ring to it, the way that almost all of his words do.

Akaashi sputters, reaching up to rub at his cheek where he can feel a bruise starting to form. He hears a mantra of curses being a face peeks over the edge of the bed, revealing to him Bokuto’s hair, which is cascading into his face and making him look young and innocent, and guilty eyes.

“Sorry, Akaashi,” Bokuto croaks shamefully. _His morning voice is cute_ , Akaashi notes, pushing himself up into a sitting position. “I panicked,” he adds, looking like he wants to sink into the floor, and Akaashi shares his sentiment once he remembers which position Bokuto must’ve woken to.

Yahaba, sitting pretty on his bed with a book and one headphone in his ear, snorts and flips the page almost teasingly. “You two are so fucking oblivious,” he informs, grinning at Akaashi when he glares up at him.

Bokuto makes a distressed noise and buries himself beneath the sheets again until only a couple strands of hair poke out. Akaashi reaches up and pats his head through the sheets, assuring him that he's not mad and it’s okay and there’s nothing to worry about.

It’s only when Akaashi says he still likes Bokuto, a sentence spoken on a whim, does he jump up excitedly, the blanket fluttering down to the bed. Bokuto’s golden eyes are wide and filled with a hopeful look.

“Really?”

His voice, hesitant and quiet and still rough from sleep, makes Akaashi want to hold him, hold him and never let go. Akaashi wonders how often he goes into a self-doubt mode, curling up in blankets when he thinks he offended someone or screwed up a conversation. He’s heard about Bokuto before, him and his tendency to need reassurance and a steady hand around him at all times. He’s heard about it, heard about how people brushed it off as him being bipolar or sensitive or overdramatic.

But when Akaashi takes his hand, slowly to give him time to pull away, and nods, keeping their eyes connected in a way that makes even Yahaba avert his eyes downwards to the words in his book, he realizes it’s not entirely true.

Yes, Bokuto needs someone to comfort him and sit with him during his times of dejection. Yes, he probably has something going on up in his head that most of the world can’t even begin to understand. Yes, he might have a case of bipolar disorder. Yes.

But it’s not just that. It’s more than a mental thing, more than something in his DNA telling him he did something wrong. It’s a voice in the back of his head, reminding him that his parents never wanted to stick around for his childhood. It’s people who shunned him for being bisexual despite having earlier claimed to be a friend. It’s friendly faces turning into sneers. It’s him having spoken too quickly, acted too rashly that led to people abandoning him.

It’s a fear. A fear of abandonment. A fear of having another back turned.

He has a fear, a phobia, being brushed to the side and it makes Akaashi want to wrap him in his arms. So he does.

He wraps his arms around him, buries his face into the injured shoulder and tries not to cry. Bokuto puts his arms around his waist again, holding tight like the night before. His arms are warm and his chest is comforting. Akaashi’s heart is pounding and he’s certain that Bokuto can hear it from where he has his head pressed to the center of Akaashi’s chest. The silence is taking over the room and Akaashi makes a reminder to thank Yahaba for not speaking for once. They stay like that, wrapped up together, for what feels like forever. It could’ve been hours before they pulled away but Akaashi, despite his aching back and stuttering heart, wouldn’t’ve minded staying like that for a few more hours.

“Sorry about that,” he says falling back against the headrest. He notices Yahaba left, probably to complain to someone about his room turning into a place where people who can’t find a way to start their relationships are currently occupying.

Bokuto shakes his head quickly, cheeks flushed. “No, no it’s o-. Fine. It’s fine. You don’t have to apologize,” his cheeks darken with every word until he looks more like a tomato than an owl.

Akaashi nods steadily, keeping his stare hard on his knees. He hears Bokuto shifting, the sound of fabric rustling before his knees appear in Akaashi’s view. He sees the hand and,despite having a vague understanding of what’s about to happen, doesn’t retract his face, not even when the palm is on his chin, burning his skin with the touch. His head gets tilted up, gently, softly, carefully.

Bokuto’s head is moving forward, slowly, giving him time to object. Akaashi, fighting back the fear that is rising up in his mind, closes his eyes and lets himself sink in the kiss. He melts into Bokuto when their lips meet, angles his chin deeper into the palm still cupping his face and brings his hands to clutch at Bokuto’s shoulders.

When Bokuto pulls back for air, Akaashi follows his lips for a second, he presses their foreheads together and runs his hand up and down Akaashi’s neck. Their breaths are heavy and heated, swirling in the space between them.

“Go out with me?” Bokuto asks, golden eyes searching Akaashi’s slate-grey ones.

“Of course,” Akaashi gasps breathily, leaning in for another kiss. Bokuto concedes and Akaashi willingly spends the rest of the afternoon wrapped up with his new boyfriend, watching movies on Akaashi’s laptop while stealing kisses and insulting horror movie after horror movie.

 _This_ , Akaashi thinks happily while he has his lips pressed against Bokuto’s, _this is what it feels like to have fallen._

 

* * *

 

“Your seat has been taken,” Kuroo greets cheerfully as Akaashi opens the door and glares up at the annoyingly loud bell that announces his entrance to everyone in the shop.

 “Aren’t you supposed to be doing adult stuff?” Akaashi asks dryly, raising an eyebrow at Kuroo who’s standing in the middle of the building like he’s still a student attending university in need of some coffee.

“Probably,” he agrees, a tired grin pulling at the corner of his lips. “I’m visiting Kenma,” he gestures to the guy standing behind the counter with his phone in hand. Most likely he’s playing Pokémon GO.

“Wonderful,” he says, brushing past Kuroo to greet his boyfriend with a kiss. Bokuto is sitting in the booth at the back where the wifi is fastest just like he was when Akaashi first met him. His hair is still styled with outrageous black and white spikes and his golden eyes still hold the same warm sparkle in them when they land on Akaashi making his way through the crowd of people who graduated the previous year but found it fun to sneak back in and occupy the coffee shop.

“Hello, Koutarou,” he greets, pulling back from the kiss with a soft smile. Bokuto’s eyes bulge like they always do when he drops the formalities, something that’s still seared into his speech despite years of trying to drop it around those he considers family.

“Hey, Keiji!” Bokuto crows, jumping up from his seat in excitement to wrap his arms around Akaashi. “Let’s go for a walk! We should walk! C’mon Keiji, let’s walk around campus! Walk!” Bokuto bounces around happily, darting through some people before making his way back to Akaashi to get in his face and suggest a walk before running off again.

“You’re very energetic today, Koutarou,” Akaashi notes, latching onto Bokuto’s hand before he can run away again. Bokuto nods quickly and drags Akaashi through the crowd managing to, somehow, not run into anyone.

“Yeah, that’s because I’m visiting Keiji! I haven’t seen you in forever!”

Akaashi chuckles, letting himself be dragged across campus towards the fountain in the middle of the courtyard. “You saw me two weeks ago.”

“That’s like, forever ago, Keiji!” Bokuto whines, ducking around a startled first year.

“Hey, stop running around people,” Akaashi chides with no real conviction in his voice, so it’s not really a surprise when Bokuto ignores his warnings and continues to snake through the groups of people.

Bokuto comes to an abrupt stop, sending Akaashi stumbling into his back, at the edge of the water fountain. The ledge of the fountain is chiseled marble, carved into flowers along the base of it. The water in it is crystalline, showing off the old mosaic tiles at the bottom. The spout is shaped like a goblet, thin in its neck and wide at the top where the water overflows and spills down in a beautiful waterfall, catching the light rays and forming a rainbow in the mist. It’s a romantic place where many couples officiated their relationship status throughout their years at the school.

Bokuto takes his hands in his own and they stand face to face in front of the fountain. Akaashi can see Kuroo and Oikawa poking their heads around a bush a few feet back, and the occasional flashes of yellow through the shrubbery gives way that Kenma somehow got himself dragged into whatever was being planned.

Bokuto, with absolutely no style, drops down onto one knee and takes Akaashi’s left hand in his. Akaashi can feel his face darken with every surprised face that turns towards them, he can hear his heart beat louder and louder with every flash going off from those taking pictures.

“Akaashi Keiji,” he starts slowly before shaking his head and starting again with the same words, this time, uttered quicker. Again he shakes his head and looks over his shoulder at Kuroo who gives him a quick thumbs up before ducking behind the bush again like there was definitely no way Akaashi saw him. Oikawa is mouthing something at him, gesturing wildly with one hand while the other is curled up in something that resembles a deformed fist.

Bokuto ignores Oikawa, who pouts when he turns away and releases Akaashi’s hand to reach into his back pocket and dig out a box. The black velvety cover of the box sends a tremor through Akaashi’s knees and he drops a couple inches before straightening himself out again.

“Bokuto-san,” he says carefully, “are you doing what I think you are?”

Bokuto looks up at him with wide eyes and shrugs stiffly, looking at a loss for words now.

“Key,” he manages to mumble, still appearing terrified.

Akaashi frowns, “key? What about a key?”

Bokuto fumbles with the box for a second before opening it to reveal a silver key with something carved into the wide part at the top.

“Key,” he repeats, pushing the key closer.

Akaashi takes the key out of the box and it looks like fifty pounds came off of Bokuto’s chest when he does so. Akaashi brings the key up to his eye, reading the inscription on it.

In the metal is his first name with a heart under it and Akaashi’s heart flutters despite the cheesiness of it. Or maybe his heart flutters _because_ it’s so cheesy. He’s not sure and he doesn’t exactly care either.

“Are you asking me to move in with you, Koutarou?” Akaashi asks with a wide smile. Bokuto nods and Akaashi sees a bead of sweat rolling down the side of his face. “Well, my answer is yes.”

Bokuto practically floats upwards to press his lips against Akaashi’s, garnering cheers from people watching. Akaashi grins into the kiss and mumbles, “should we tell them we didn’t get engaged?” against Bokuto’s lips.

“Mhm,” Bokuto hums, “let them believe it,”

“Fine by me,” Akaashi says sweetly, leaning back into their kiss.

A whistle interrupts them a second later and Akaashi, with his eyes still closed and forehead resting against Bokuto’s, huffs out Kuroo's name.

“How’re you doing, ‘Kaashi?” Kuroo asks and Akaashi can hear the smugness in his voice.

“Pretty good,” Akaashi chooses to let Kuroo be smug since he did play the part as the instigator to their relationship.

Akaashi whispers, “I love you,” into the space between his and Bokuto’s lips before pressing their lips together again.

_I’m glad I didn’t have a fear of heights._

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> (Sakura Kiss is Kiss Kiss Fall In Love from Ouran High School Host Club)
> 
>  [tumblr](http://nishinoya-trash.tumblr.com/)


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